SINCE I BEEN GONE

WELL, I GUESS IT’S TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT BLACK GUYS.

See what I did there? That’s called an “Attention Getter”. That is why I am a MASTER OF LITERATURE.  That is why I am able to write with more passion and excitement than Nicolas Cage is able to drive angry. That is why the English language is the suspicious stain to my Monica Lewinsky- meaning that I would risk the presidency for it.

Image

Pictured: A Master of Literature.

THAT IS WHY I TRULY REGRET BEING GONE FOR SO LONG.

You guys. I haven’t been faithful to you. BUT I have an excuse! This summer has been crazy, and not just my usual eating-nachos-at-two-am sort of crazy. I’m talking getting into gang fights, trying exotic new foods, getting my identity stolen crazy!

…None of that is true. Except for the identity theft thing. Someone stole my social security number. I went to the DMV to FINALLY get my drivers permit when I found out that SURPRISE! Someone was already driving using my social security number on a drivers license:) And they’re also trying to use it to buy a car:) And it will probably take years to hunt this person down and send them to jail:) And this will affect me for the rest of my life:) BUT IT’S OKAY! Because I signed up for this identity protection thing so they can’t use my SS number without answering a bunch of random questions about my life first, and slowly but surely, they will leave a TRAIL OF CRIME leading straight to their house (that they’ll probably try to get using my SS number) and I will strike with more precision and skill than I used while carrying my dear friend Bubba out of that thick forest in ‘Nam. There were bullets flying all around me, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! …Unless your social security number was stolen.

Which just goes to show: no matter how crappy a situation is, you can still persevere and live life to the fullest. I am a prime example of making lemonade out of lemons. I am the ONLY example.  A horrible thing happened and I’m still breezy! I’m still cool! I still showed up to the party with GOLD BARS when everyone else was bringing frankincense and SPICES. Like, COME ON. What’s he gonna do? Make a curry? HE’S A FRICKING BABY.

But I digress.

This summer has been one of the weirdest, most confusing times of my life. I didn’t do anything TOO out of the box, but I DID listen to my 90 year old Grandmother give me the sex talk.

“Kiana,” she said, “Don’t get pregnant!”

“Oh…Grandma, that’s really not…on the schedule for right now.” I assured her.

“That’s what they always say. Then, BAM! Babies! Hundreds of fatherless babies!” She gestured vaguely towards the window, outside of which I’m sure a legion of unborn fatherless babies were growing in the womb at that VERY SECOND.

“Grandma, I promise that isn’t an issue. I’m smart enough to stop at twenty.” I replied pleasantly.

Then my grandmother gave me a shocked look and pulled out a banana and a condom as my soul tore itself away from my body. #Summer2013

ANYWAY! So many things happened this summer, every time I sat down to write about it, I just couldn’t pick a place to start. It was like the opposite of writer’s block, which is basically the definition of ironic for me. At least I think it is. I don’t really know what Irony is. But then, nobody does. Literally nobody knows. I am in the majority here.

Well. It appears that in my month away, I’ve forgotten how to blog. But I’ll recover! Just like I recovered when I was stranded on that island with only a volleyball to love. Speaking of that event: Is it just me, or is Castaway +bloody volleyball an AWESOME couple’s Halloween costume??? Think about it. Let it ferment in your mind the way me and my rat-companion let all of our fine French delicacies ferment in our frying pans.

…Goodbye.

Kiana.

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